


You

by ShaneShenanigans



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fluff, M/M, second-person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-11 11:05:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3325190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShaneShenanigans/pseuds/ShaneShenanigans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You simply watch him exist in everything he is and you feel yourself drifting away to places even more perfect than this one. And of course, he's there. He's all that's there and all you need.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You

You know you’ve been looking at him for too long, but you can’t stop. When he starts to face you, you tense, your reflexes tell you you must turn away, but your eyes are stuck. The muscles on his neck flex when he turns his head, and you swallow the lump in your throat as his skin glows under the light of flames.  
  
You know his eyes are on you now, but you can’t meet them. You know they’re too beautiful, and you know you’ll get lost if you go there. In the right light, in the right moment, looking at someone’s eyes was as if seeing their soul. Under the stars with the flickering light of the fire dancing against his face, you knew this would be one of those times.  
  
Slowly, you let your eyes drift up. Not too high, just by inches, just until you see his lips and think of kissing them. Your heart starts to beat harder, and for a moment, you’re sure he can hear it, and you finally have to look away. Your face is red hot, and not just from the closeness of the fire.  
  
“Inquisitor.” A voice sounds to your right, and you welcome the distraction. “This might interest you.” You stand quickly to approach her and occupy your mind with other things.  
  
o-o-o  
  
You’re anxious, and angry, and afraid. Solas’s advice weighs heavy on your mind as you sit, awake in the dead of night, and alone.  
  
You’d been given an answer, an option, but to what end? You lost so many, let so many die.  
  
You lift your hand and examine the erratic glow, brighter and more aggressive than before. Part of you wishes it would go away, along with this responsibility. To abandon all this and return to your people for peace.  
  
You don’t notice him approaching until he’s there, and you nearly jump at the feeling of a hand on your shoulder. You reach up, and almost touch it, but stop yourself, curling your fingers back as a layer of warm fur is laid over your shoulders.  
  
“Did you even realize how much you were shivering?” You tilt your head back, find his eyes with yours,  and the tempest inside you whirrs to a calm. He smiles, almost as if making fun of you, but you don’t smile back. “I thought not.”  
  
Your hand is still hovering there above his on your shoulder, and for a moment you wish you’d touched it. None of this would be half as hard if you could have his hand to squeeze for comfort in the dark.  
  
“Thank you.” You say, and that’s all you can say. His hand slides off as he leaves, and you feel a little colder once he’s gone. Your chest aches to watch him disappear behind the layer of a tent. How much easier would things be in the morning if you had the courage to hold him tonight?  
  
o-o-o  
  
You should be exhausted, but you’re nothing short of excited. You’re home— a new home, and you’ve taken the first steps to help build it. You’ve accepted and faced your responsibility and found yourself willing and therefore worthy.  
  
The halls have a beautiful potential and the walls are strong and reliable. The ground feels firm and secure beneath your feet as you walk the halls and stairwells to discover your new kingdom.  
  
You find yourself halted at the sight of him, visible from the top of the stairs as you ascend. Seeing him makes you smile at the way your heart beats harder and faster. The feeling he brings out in you makes you feel light and alive, and weak at the same time. With a deep breath and the courage to stand against gods, you approach him, and as if sensing your presence, without even looking at you, he speaks.  
  
You simply watch him exist in everything he is and you feel yourself drifting away to places even more perfect than this one. And of course he’s still there, going on about Archdemons and crushing while you’re entranced by the way his lips move when he talks.  
  
“Am I speaking too quickly for you?”  
  
o-o-o  
  
He’s a little drunk, and you’re a little drunk on him. He’s having fun, and you haven’t touched what’s in your glass because watching that gets you higher than any substance ever could.  
  
He moves a lot when he’s drunk. Talks with his hands, shifts his weight, sways his hips, moves one foot to settle on his toe and rubs the back of his neck. Part of you is content sitting, and imagining prodding his shoulder to face you, pushing him against the bar counter, kissing him with every ounce of passion he makes you feel. Dragging your hands down his body and becoming one with him.  
  
Another part of you suppresses the over whelming urge to stand up and do just that. He’s having fun, helping Krem tease Cullen, and you don’t want to get in the way of that. You don’t want to get in the way of anything he enjoys or wants, and you wonder as you frown and turn to look at your full glass. What does he want?  
  
o-o-o  
  
You’re angry somewhere, but outside you’re detached. It was hard at first— killing all these people in your path, wishing you could negotiate but finding they wouldn’t listen. After everything, all the loss, killing those who helped cause it is akin to slaying savage animals. You feel good when one falls, better when another loses her head, and you never again wonder who they were or where they came from.  
  
A familiar laugh sounds from your right, and you slam the back end of your staff down and freeze your foe in ice just to stop and hear it.  
  
“I could do this all day!” He shouts, just before setting one of them aflame, and a ridiculous smile crosses your face as you duck a swinging sword and land your heal in the owner’s gut. You have an overwhelming urge to go to him, and fight right by his side. Then, all of the sudden, you’re surrounded.  
  
“Inquisitor!”  Cole cries out, rather over dramatically, though he probably sensed your sudden distress. You wonder vaguely if he realizes that that distress is not in fact because you’re surrounded on all sides but because it makes it harder to get to Dorian. He probably does.  
  
You’ve managed to freeze two of them with an enchantment circle, amidst blocking and ducking strikes from others as the damn mage sets your pants on fire. You freeze your leggings before it scorches your skin just in time to knock one of the frozen venatori’s head off it’s body with the back end of your staff.  
  
One down.  
  
Before you can act again, three of those around you are set ablaze by an enormous wall of flame. They scream and writhe as you roll away from the fire, turning on your heal and sticking your staff’s blade through another one’s chest and wedging it up into his heart. To your right you see a pair of blades emerge from the mage’s chest, and he falls to reveal Cole, who nods at you, happy to help.  
  
The ones who’d been set on fire fall, burnt to a crisp, and it’s all of the sudden over. As the flames on the sand clear, they reveal him and you can’t help yourself. You launch yourself forward, over whatever is left of the fire, and relish in his surprise as you throw your arms around him and pull yourself against him. You force yourself not to linger on the way your body fits against his like pieces in a puzzle, and just smile widely against his hair, breath heaving as you feel him slowly, and maybe awkwardly place his hands on your back.  
  
“Was that exciting for you, boss?” Bull sounded sarcastic, and followed it up with a “tch.” It seemed nothing less than a high dragon would satisfy him now.  
  
He clears his throat while you hang on him, and you back away slowly, eyes twinkling as they fall upon your face. His hands remain on your upper arms, and he says “We should move on.” And then he drops them to his sides, and turns away. Not, however, without glancing over his shoulder at you with a tiny, curious quirk of his lips.  
  
Your heart is still pounding to an ache as you watch him head forward, but you’re not sure if it’s from the fight anymore.  
  
o-o-o-o  
  
Kissing him for the first time felt like home. Like comfort, like meaning and purpose, like the sort of beauty of life and humanity that all of your efforts have been to defend.  
  
You remember the beating of your heart, the anticipation as he approached you with those dark eyes, the excitement. And then the calm when his lips met yours, when you were finally able to relax into them. For just a few moments, your world was untouchable, invincible. Not even death could have destroyed the feeling that swam in your soul.  
  
But you want more, you can’t get enough, you pull him harder against you and pry open his mouth, forcing your tongue in and taking everything you can find.   
  
He backs off at first chance, probably thinking it’s too fast, and you agree, but you still don’t want to stop. But, you do stop. When he places his curled finger underneath your chin and raises your eyes to meet his, you find his smile, and you melt.  
  
You may have let yourself stop kissing him, but you’re still holding him, and you promise yourself at that moment that you’ll never let him go.

**Author's Note:**

> Did someone say sapfest again? I really need to write a legit fic sometime. But for now all I can do is obsess over Dorian with text.


End file.
